#SHUT UP JESSICA | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marvelfilth · 8 months ago

Text

AKA Shut up and listen

Pairing: Jessica Jones x f!reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, self-deprication

Summary: you love Jess, Jess doesn't get why

Masterlist

"So... This is it?" you mumble, your gaze pinned to the roach on the wall to your left.

You really shouldn't be disappointed - you heard enough of Jess' grumbling whenever she came back from a hideout with too many compromising pictures on her camera and too much alcohol on her breath.

So, yeah, it's all your fault, since it was you who begged her to take you with her, just to get a taste of that PI life.

"Yes." She opens the window, letting some fresh air flow into the tiny motel room.

"Cool," you sigh and search the room for a safe place to sit. Unfortunately, the entire place looks like a biohazard, so you have no choice, but to settle on the edge of the single bed.

Your hesitation doesn't escape Jess' watchful eye. "You realize you'll have to sleep here, right?" Jessica drawls. She's sitting on the windowsill, her flask clutched between her fingertips. She raises her eyebrows at your silence and you shake your head, feeling hot all of a sudden. Lately, it's been happening too often - her looking at you far longer than a friend should, and you flushing under her heavy gaze.

"You said it won't take long," you mumble, turning away to hide your burning cheeks with your hair.

"It won't. Twenty hours top." She shrugs, taking off her leather jacket to reveal her toned arms, your eyes zeroing in on the muscles hidden under her soft skin.

"Great," you sigh.

The roach on the wall moves closer to you and you have to fight the urge to stamp it down with your shoe.

It probably has a family somewhere.

"You don't have to stay. I can call Trish, she'll pick you up. She can take you somewhere fancy."

Your eyes roll at the obvious attempt at getting rid of you. You know she likes you enough to tolerate you for at least a day, but you also know she prefers to work alone. Even Trish never gets to tag along.

"You know I like you more."

“Really?” She husks sarcastically around the neck of her flask.

“Yes.”

Another roach crawls from under the bed, making you squeak and jump off it. Jessica rolls her eyes, gesturing around you. “This. This is me.”

You blink. Then blink again. “A roach?”

She hums, turning to look outside and taking another swing from her flask. “Yep. A roach, dirty motel, cheap booze - all me. Doesn't seem like your thing.”

You huff, crossing your arms, your shoulders suddenly tense. “Luckily for me, you're more than cheap booze, and shitty motels, and roaches. So yeah, you're my thing.”

She tilts her head, her dark eyes brimming with exhaustion from countless sleepless nights spent chasing leads, but there's a flicker of something, something important. It's gone faster than you can place it, and she turns back to the window, lifting her camera, and covering her face from your scrutiny.

“Get us some food, yeah?” She whispers, pretending to focus on the streets below.

You let out a frustrated huff, but nod nonetheless, leaving in search of something edible.

You come back a little over half an hour later, a paper bag full of takeout clutched tightly against your chest, your heart still racing after a ride with a sketchy man on a sketchy elevator.

Jessica startles you with a question.

“You okay?”

Her body is halfway out of the window, facing the building across the street, but her eyes are pinned to you. The flask lies empty on the windowsill.

“Peachy,” you mumble, pushing a container into her hand. “Eat it all or no booze for two days.”

She frowns, eyeing you warily. “Don't bullshit me.”

You smile, humming, and nudge Jess to make space for you on the windowsill. You dig into the food, almost moaning at the rich flavor, and note with pride that Jessica seems to enjoy it too.

“Not bad,” she says around a forkful. “Not as good as your famous lasagna-”

You shove her before she can finish her thought.

“Jess!”

Her brow arches in question, and she keeps a serious expression for all three seconds before the corners of her mouth jump up in a fleeting smile. “What? I liked it.”

You groan, pushing the food around. She'll never let you forget it. And to think that you were just being a caring friend, spending all day perfecting a recipe you found online, chasing down Jess, and making her eat some of it.

“Just a little less salt next time,” she says, leaning back against the wall, her eyes on you.

You shake your head, cheeks burning in embarrassment.

The evening is settling in, the warm glow of the sun seeping away, giving way to the chilly breeze. You shudder, goosebumps littering your bare arms, and consider moving to the bed, or maybe wrapping yourself in a blanket. You eye it warily - it's thin, its color washed away and even from here you can see some of the stains.

You jump up when a weight settles over your shoulders, a familiar scent of leather enveloping you. When you turn to look at Jess, instead of looking away like you thought she would, she looks at you, head-on.

“Thanks,” you whisper, pushing your arms through the sleeves. “You're not cold?”

She shakes her head no, pushing her food around. “Looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” You look down at your lap, fingers fidgeting. The air grows heavy.

She reaches inside her bag and takes out another flask.

“I'm no good for you, you know?” she says after gulping at least a quarter of it.

You look up, startled.

“I'm an asshole with a drinking problem. You deserve better.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “You’re not an asshole.”

She snorts, and finishes the flask in quick gulps before carelessly throwing it to the floor.

“Jess.”

She hums.

“You're not an asshole.”

“I heard you the first time.”

You huff, and pull the take out box out of her hands before gently setting both of your food on the nearby table. “Jessica,” you start, squaring your shoulders. “I need you to listen to me very carefully.” She rolls her eyes, but turns to face you nonetheless. You can tell she's ready to bolt or at least deflect, but you won't let her. Not this time, the conversation is long overdue.

You take her hand in yours, fiddling with her slender fingers. “You’re one of the best people I've ever met, Jess-” the scoff that follows is expected “-yes, you are!” You insist, giving her hand a sharp tug. “You're brave, and selfless, and kind-”

“I’m an unreliable, unstable alcoholic with a fucked up head,” she growls, jumping off her seat. “I'm not kind or brave. I don't do nice things. I'm not nice, period. I have a hole in my wall and more empty bottles than cutlery. I haven't washed my jeans in two months. I- fuck, sometimes I can't even look at you without thinking about you leaving, eventually.” She starts pacing, fingers lost in her dark tresses.

“Jess.”

“I can't take care of myself, Trish does that half the time. I have one bedsheet. I don't have a vacuum cleaner. My door is permanently broken.”

“Jessica.”

“I'm a fucked up-”

“Shut up.”

She stops mid rant, looking at you with tired eyes, and let's out a long-suffering sigh. “You deserve better.”

You shake your head and take a step towards her. “I love you.”

She recoils, suddenly looking like a frightened child. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “What?” She croaks.

“I love you, Jess. I love you when you're drunk and miserable, and I love you when sober up and smile like you don't have a care in the world. I love you when you're out of reach for days on a case, and I love you when you make sure to spend time with me, even if it means sacrificing sleep-”

“Stop.”

“-I love you when you don't have time to take my calls, and I love you when you answer me from strangers’ balconies. I love you when you're being mean, and I love you when you choose to be the kindest person I know, even after all of the shit you've been through.”

“Y/n…”

“I love you and your broken door. And I love your cutlery.”

“Don't-”

“And I have a vacuum cleaner.”

She sighs, but her eyes soften just a slightest bit. "A vacuum cleaner, huh?"

You swallow and take a deep breath. “I- I don't want anyone else, Jess. I want you. I love you.”

She looks at you for a long moment, her jaw tenses, brows furrow in thought. “Okay,” she nods slowly, begrudgingly.

“Yeah?” You whisper, inching closer.

“Yeah,” she breathes against your lips, before pulling you in a tender, almost chaste kiss. She's pulling away a second later and it's over before you even fully register the feeling of her soft, full lips on yours. “I- You- Fuck, why is this shit so goddamn hard?” She grumbles, closing her eyes briefly before taking a deep breath. “You deserve better, so-”

“Jessica,” you growl, pushing her by the shoulders. She doesn't budge, pressing you closer to her chest, her grip on your waist tightening.

“You deserve better, so I'll get better. I'll do better. For you,” she finishes slowly, begrudgingly, and for a moment you're speechless. “Less booze should be a good start, right? No girl likes to smell alcohol all the time,” she sounds like she's complaining, like this is the worst situation she could ever find herself in, but her eyes shine in a way you've never seen before. It's hope, you realise after a moment.

“Not for me, for you,” you state firmly, cupping her jaw. “You'll get better for you.”

She blinks. “That’s not a good enough motivation,” she grumbles.

You press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, fighting back a smile. She's so Jess. “We'll work on that.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. I... I love you too, I guess.”

"Mhm," you hum, and she opens her mouth again, so you pull her in a proper kiss before she can say anything else.

#jessica jones x reader #jessica jones x you #jessica jones x female reader #jessica jones #jessica Jones x y/n #jessica jones x fem!reader #AKA Shut up and listen

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